


Kiss the Cook

by Anonymous_Being



Category: One Piece
Genre: F/M, Reader-Insert, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-05
Updated: 2017-04-05
Packaged: 2018-10-15 00:18:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10546806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anonymous_Being/pseuds/Anonymous_Being
Summary: You and Sanji have been separated from the rest of the crew when a scarred man attacks and traps Sanji in an illusion in which he sees the man as the most beautiful woman in the world. It's up to you to break him from the spell by any means necessary before both of you lose your lives. Sanji x Reader fluff piece rated T for violence.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own One Piece or profit from this story in any way. 
> 
> A/N: This is a Sanji x Reader story. When the crew addresses you as “Reader” please feel free to insert your own name there. I absolutely adore Sanji and his ridiculous antics. I don’t like to pair him with any of his crew mates so I decided I would write a story where he’s paired with the reader. I’ve never written this type of pairing before so please take that with a grain of salt, and enjoy! This story is set shortly before Punk Hazard. Originally posted on fanfiction.net under my pen name [Anonymous Being](https://www.fanfiction.net/u/1073118/Anonymous-Being). I apologize for formatting errors. I write my work using Word Document and had no idea the formatting wouldn't be saved.

 

"Sanji, kun," you shout, panic creeping into your voice as you shake the blonde cook in an attempt to snap him out of it, "wake up!"

  
It wasn't a secret that the cook was easily distracted by beautiful women, but despite the fact that he did occasionally fawn over beautiful villain vixens as well, it had never prevented him from aiding his nakama. His lecherous ways had never gotten you hurt before and this time the enemy wasn’t even a woman. Now here you stood with blood dripping from the wound in your side and your assailant standing mere yards away, advancing still. He was a tall and lanky man with a face that would later haunt your dreams. A jagged scar marred his otherwise plain features from his left temple to his right ear and his expression was one of boredom, as if fighting you was little more than batting away an annoying fly. His wild chestnut hair fell down into his eyes which were an unsettling shade of amber, but in the setting sun they almost looked red. You didn't understand why Sanji was gushing over the man as if he was the most beautiful woman the cook had ever seen.

  
The two of you had been separated from the rest of the crew and subsequently attacked by this mysterious man, your blood now dripping from his cutlass. Sanji had immediately started fawning over the man and reciting ridiculous pet names and everything you had tried so far wasn’t bringing him back. The man continued to step closer and despite your weakened state, you step in front of Sanji with your own weapon drawn, a segmented blade that at first appeared like any other sword, until you flicked your wrist and sent it flying at your opponent, changing it into a deadly whip made entirely of sharp edged steel. With Sanji under some sort of spell and unable to defend himself, it was up to you to keep him from getting killed, even if you lost your own life in the process. Sanji would do the same for you if he was coherent. You glance over your shoulder at the cook and frown at his lifeless heart shaped eyes and the blood streaming down his face from his nose in rivers.

  
"He can't hear you," the amber eyed man sneers to you from his position only feet away, "he's trapped in my illusion in which he sees me as the most beautiful woman in the world. He probably doesn't even know you're here with him."

  
His sudden bark of laughter sets your teeth on edge as you dig your heels into the snow, ignoring the pain that rips through your body as well as the blood that drips from your side into the powder, turning it crimson around you. He was a devil fruit user that could manipulate the way that others saw him. He could make them see him as a loved one or even a vision of absolute beauty apparently. You had to get Sanji out of the illusion before you both bled to death.

  
"Why aren't you using your ability on me," you question, your brow lifting almost in challenge, "is it because I'm not as strong?"

  
You already had a sneaking suspicion that he could only control the mind of one person at a time, and obviously he would choose Sanji, who was without a doubt the strongest and most skilled of the two of you, though you were definitely a force to be reckoned with. Your opponent didn't answer, a smirk pulling at his lips and making it clear that you had jumped to the correct conclusion.

  
"You're clever," he remarks with a grin, amber eyes suddenly manic, "I'm going to enjoy killing you."

  
Before you can even blink he lunges, but despite the pain that slows your movements you dodge the attack and keep him from hitting Sanji with a flick of your blade, the whip like weapon clashing with his and redirecting it. You barely knick your opponent’s wrist in the process and press your free hand to the laceration in your side, trying to keep as much of your blood inside as possible. You were beginning to feel light headed and not from blood loss. Something was wrong. Your stamina didn’t normally run out so quickly.

  
“Sanji-kun,” you murmur softly, your eyes sad as you watch the way he babbles declarations of love at the man currently trying to kill you.

  
You wonder in the back of your mind if things would have worked out differently had you admitted that you had feelings for the cook. Maybe seeing such a beautiful woman before him would have had less of an impact had he known. Thoughts like that would do you no good, so you force them down.

  
You barely dodge another direct attack as you jump to the side and stagger, your strength beginning to wane. The swordsman is suddenly upon you again and you manage to block his blade with your own but his strength forces you to place your other hand on your blade to hold him back, the steel biting into your skin and drawing blood. You cry out in pain, trying to ignore the burning in your palm as you hold on for dear life, and out of the corner of your eye you see it.

  
Sanji’s eye twitches at the sound of you in pain, his body tensing ever so slightly. He’s still in there, still mesmerized by the beauty before him but not so much that he can’t register the sound of your voice crying out. Your heart lifts with the realization as you gather your strength and shove the villain away. You ignore the blood dripping down your fingers and the fact that you can no longer feel the appendage as you sprint in the direction of the cook, ducking to avoid another blow of the cutlass, but you fall short. The blade rips into your shoulder and sends you spiraling to the ground with a scream, but your eyes catch the way Sanji’s jaw flexes as he clenches his teeth. You have to find a way to fully break him from the illusion and you have to do it now, because your vision is beginning to tunnel.

  
Your opponent laughs as he watches you haul yourself to your feet and sway. He has decided that you will be dead at any moment if the amount of blood you’ve lost is any indication, and watches with amusement as you approach the love sick blonde for what he assumes is your final farewell.

  
“Sanji-k—“ you start, barely able to hold onto consciousness as another wave of pain rolls through your normally strong form. You’re almost certain that his blade is coated in some sort of poison because you can normally hold your own far better than this.

  
You’re shaking when you reach the cook and tilt your head back to look at him, your trembling hands lifting to cradle his face between them, your sword forgotten at your feet. He has to snap out of this. You cannot defeat this man alone. You cannot protect him any longer, not when you feel like you might pass out at any moment. With nothing left to lose you lift yourself up on your toes, leaning most of your weight on the cook since you can barely hold yourself upright, before suddenly settling your lips against his in a weak kiss, silently praying that it works.

  
The change in Sanji is immediate. The cook’s eyes, which were previously frozen in the shape of hearts, close at the feeling of your soft lips on his. His arms come around you without pause and hold you against him as if sensing your lack of strength. Most surprising is the fact that Sanji is suddenly kissing you back and you hear the faintest sound of his sigh that sounds suspiciously like your name, right before you black out, your hands falling from his face and leaving a streak of blood across one cheek from your injured palm.

  
Sanji’s eyes open the moment you go slack in his arms and his normally calm blue eyes are suddenly fierce with anger at the sight of your blood. With the illusion broken he can remember every moment between being put under the spell and feeling you kiss him. He remembers you protecting him, the way you fought so hard until finally you claimed his lips with your own and swiftly fell into unconsciousness. The cook shakes with rage as he cradles you against his chest and locks his gaze with the man who did this to you.

“Forgive me, Reader-san,” he murmurs against your hair as he gently lays you down in the snow and wraps his coat around you, “I’ll be right back.”

  
Tucking a cigarette between his lips, Sanji lights up; the flame reflecting in his eyes as he stares down the grinning man yards away. The cook eyes the blood dripping from the man’s sword and quickly surmises that it’s yours, his jaw flexing as his anger builds.

  
“What kind of man,” Sanji growls, his words clipped, “harms an innocent woman!”

  
The man before him seems completely unfazed by this new development, and instead picks at his fingernails absentmindedly in an attempt to scratch away your blood that dared to splatter there. Sanji’s fury grows as he watches, and then he strikes. He needs to end this quickly before you bleed out. The amber eyed man snaps his fingers, but his eyes widen when the cook keeps coming. The illusion doesn’t work anymore. His roundhouse kick hits the scarred man right in the jaw and sends him flying, leaving a dent in the earth when he lands. His amber eyes go wide as he realizes that Sanji is far more powerful than he assumed him to be. He has no idea that this is the infamous Black Leg Sanji that he has just pissed off.

  
He moves to stand, but the blonde is upon him once more, his powerful legs slamming down into him from up in the air and denting the earth so far that the scarred man worries that he might actually send him straight to hell. He doesn’t even have time to defend himself when a kick to his jaw nearly breaks his neck, blood spurting from his open mouth. With a final move, Sanji lifts the bastard out of the pit from the collar of his shirt and sends him flying once more, miles away, with a swift kick to the gut, and he knows when he hears the sound of bones cracking that his opponent is dead, even before he sees the life drain from his eyes as he plummets into the earth five miles out.  
He approaches you after, stomping out his cigarette and bringing you into his arms with a movement that is so tender it would steal your breath had you been awake. He’s careful not to touch your wounds as he cradles you to his chest and sprints in the general direction of the Thousand Sunny, silently praying that the others had found their way back, and that Chopper would be among them.

  
“Oi, Sanji,” Luffy shouts when the two of you draw near enough to be seen, a huge smile on his face as he munches the meat Sanji had been saving for dinner that night, “where have you bee—“

  
The captain falters when he sees that the bundle in Sanji’s arm is you, and that the fabric surrounding you is soaked in blood. The captain drops his meat in an instant and jumps over the side of the Sunny onto the dock, rushing over to the cook as the rest of your nakama join you.

  
“Reader,” Luffy murmurs, all humor gone from his face, “what happened? Sanji?”

  
The cook is visibly shaking as he holds you close to him. It’s his fault. If he wasn’t so distracted by feminine beauty he might not have fallen under that bastard’s spell. If you only knew how much you meant to him, how much he never wanted to see you get hurt, maybe things could have been different. He felt sick as you grew cold in his embrace despite the heavy coat wrapped around your limp form. Chopper was at your side in an instant, his large eyes impossibly wide as he takes in your state.

  
“Doctor,” Chopper cries, running around the cook in panicked circles, “we need a doctor!”

  
“ _You’re a doctor_!”

  
Everyone shouts in unison, breaking the little reindeer out of his spell. Chopper shifts into his human form and steps closer to Sanji to take you from his arms, but he blinks in surprise when Sanji steps back, holding you even tighter to his chest with hostile eyes.

  
“Sanji,” Chopper gently prompts, “I’m not going to hurt her.”

  
Sanji knows that, he does, but he still can’t bring himself to relinquish you to the reindeer. Eventually Chopper gives up, eyes softening, and instead motions for the cook to follow him to the sick bay, and the blonde follows without a word. The others follow close at his heels and cram themselves into the small space of the sick bay as Sanji gently sets you on the bed, oblivious to the fact that his mustard shirt is soaked with your blood. His blue eyes never leave your face as he sits down next to you on the bed, far enough away that Chopper has room to work, but still close enough that he can touch you if he wants, just to reassure himself that you’re not dead.

  
Luffy again asks the cook what happened as Chopper peels away the coats and lifts your shirt to assess the damage, and Sanji flinches when he sees the wound in your side, your hand, your shoulder... How could he allow this to happen? With a shaky sigh he begins to tell the tale. He recounts the fact that your opponent was a devil fruit user who ensnared the cook in his spell, leaving you to protect the two of you on your own, which ordinarily would not have been a problem. Chopper explains why your strength gave out so quickly, interrupting the cook only briefly.

  
“His blade was poisoned,” the doctor growls, his anger directed at the now dead man and not at Sanji, but still the cook winces, “I need to make an antidote. She’s burning up.”

  
Chopper weaves through his nakama to get to his desk opposite the bed and begins mixing various powders and colorful liquids while Sanji holds pressure on your deepest wound, the one on your side.

  
“How did you break the illusion, cook-san?”

  
Robin’s deep voice asks, causing your other nakama to nod as they wait for the cook to answer.

  
“She kissed me,” Sanji murmurs under his breath, but the others hear the words just as they hear the sadness with which he delivers them, “she kissed me and then she blacked out.”

  
The others say nothing for a while as Chopper returns to the side of the bed with a cup of blue liquid in his hand. He shifts back into his human form in order to gently lift your head with his hand and bring the cup to your lips. Instinctively, you swallow the liquid that invades your mouth, though your eyes remain closed.

  
“I need to stitch her up,” Chopper says a moment later, shooing the rest of the Straw Hats from the room so that he can remove your clothes, “I’ll come and get you all when I’m done.”

  
Sanji doesn’t move. He’s still seated at the end of the bed and staring at you, even though darkness has descended and supper time has long since passed. The cook has never failed to feed his crew on time, and the others stare at him from outside of the door, waiting for him to follow.

  
“I’m staying,” Sanji states with finality.

  
“Sanji, I need to remove her clothes,” Chopper argues.

  
“I won’t look,” Sanji promises.

  
“Sanji...”

  
“Please, Chopper,” Sanji begs. He never begs, “I won’t look.”

  
The little doctor sighs and nods as he retrieves his medical bag and Nami takes it upon herself to shut the door, though she pauses to speak to Sanji once more before departing.

  
“I’ll take care of dinner,” Nami says softly, smiling gently when Sanji lifts his head to look at her.

  
“Thank you, Nami-Swan,” he responds with his own smile, but it doesn’t reach his eyes.

  
There were no hearts, no professions of love and no fawning when the cook said it which alerts the others to the fact that Sanji is blaming himself for your injuries. For now they say nothing as the door finally clicks closed and Chopper begins to strip you. Sanji does as promised and turns his body to face the wall opposite the end of the bed, his bloody hands hanging loosely between his legs. It dawns on him then that he’s covered in your blood, and the urge to wash it off is almost overpowering. The coppery scent mixed with your perfume makes him want to vomit, because he did this to you. This was his fault.

  
When Chopper says that it’s safe to look the cook turns around again, taking in your slender frame with your torso nearly completely covered in bandages, your soft hair fanned out against the pillow. The color in your face starts to return as the antidote begins to take effect, and when Sanji takes your smaller hand in his, he allows himself to breathe just a little when he finds it warm with life.

  
“Sanji, go and clean yourself up,” Chopper prods gently, sighing when the cook immediately shakes his head, “I’ll stay with her. You shouldn’t be covered in her blood when she wakes up.”

  
The cook considers this for a moment before he finally concedes and reluctantly steps out of the room and closes the door behind him. His hands are shaking when he plucks a cigarette from his pack and tucks it between his lips, inhaling deeply once it’s lit and heading for the bathroom.

  
“I’ve never seen him look like that before,” Nami murmurs as she stirs the aromatic stew she’s cooking on the stove.

  
“We all see the way he looks at her. He loves her,” Zoro says absently and shrugs. There is no snide tone or insult in the way he says it, “he’s never seen her so badly injured before and he probably blames himself for not being able to stop it.”

  
The swordsman is standing beside the navigator, drinking deeply from a bottle of sake before passing it over to Nami, who takes a gulp of her own and turns off the stove to begin ladling the stew into bowls.

  
“He looked broken,” Usopp interjects and frowns. Sanji was always strong so to see him so unlike himself was unsettling for everyone.

  
“Reader will be okay,” Luffy states with confidence as he slides into his seat at the table, “and Sanji will be too once she wakes up.”

  
Dinner was quiet that night, which was extremely unusual for the Straw Hats. Luffy only stole food from the others two or three times which was almost unheard of and Franky barely even touched his cola. They were all worried. They were all like family to each other, and the love that they shared ran deep. It wasn’t until Chopper’s voice sounded from the sick bay that they sprang to life.

  
“Her fever has broken,” Chopper called from his place at your side and smiled as the entire crew burst into the room including Sanji, whose hair was wet and hanging into his eyes, his clean shirt not even buttoned in his haste to reach you.

  
Your eyes slowly fluttered open a moment later and you blinked before turning your head to look at your nakama. You smile and almost laugh when everyone visibly relaxes in response, so crammed together they were practically hugging, but your expression swiftly changes into a wince when you try to sit up and your body protests.

  
“Don’t get up,” Chopper commands as both he and Sanji rush to your side, “you might tear your stitches.”

  
“Thank you, Chopper,” you whisper gratefully and lie back down. A sense of safety washes over you now that you’re back on the Sunny with your crew.  
“Are you hungry?” Nami asks as she approaches the bed, “I made stew.”

  
You shake your head as a wave of nausea hits your antidote laced stomach, though in the back of your mind you briefly question why Nami was the one to make dinner. Sanji never fails in his duty as the Sunny’s cook. You wonder if he even allowed himself to eat but one look at his half dressed and disheveled state tells you that he did not. You force yourself to look away from his open shirt and instead focus on your Captain when he speaks.

  
“You need rest,” Luffy says in a tone that leaves no room for argument, surprising your crewmates, “we’ll come and check on you in the morning.”

  
You nod and watch as the others begin filing out of the room, but when Sanji turns to leave, your hands shoot out and you grab his wrist without thinking. A blush colors your face when the cook turns back to face you with a look of surprise on his face, but you hope that the flush of your prior fever masks it.

  
“Sanji-kun,” you start hesitantly, unsure of how to word what you want, “will you—would you stay?”

  
The cook is clearly shocked by your request and for a moment you expect him to burst into a fit of hearts and adoration, but instead he gently smiles, though you notice that it’s strained, and nods as he pulls Chopper’s desk chair to the side of your bed and sits. You’re not sure why his lack of love struck mutterings bothers you but a pang of hurt strikes your heart in result. Was he upset that you kissed him? You feel him take your hand in his and you relax at his touch. You want to thank him for saving you, to ask him why he seems so upset, but the medicine that Chopper gave you swiftly pulls you down into sleep before you can.

  
When you wake up Sanji is nowhere to be found and Robin is perched at the end of your bed with her attention on the book that she’s holding. You recognize it as one of your own and smile. Robin had mentioned never reading it before and had clearly taken it upon herself to do so while you slept.

  
“Robin,” you rasp and frown when you find that your throat is sore and your voice hoarse, “where is Sanji?”

  
“He’s making breakfast,” Robin answers and sets down her book to smile at you, “are you feeling better?”

  
You nod and sigh gratefully when she brings a cup of cool water to your lips for you to drink. You try not to guzzle the liquid but you end up drinking it down faster than you should anyway and begin to sit up. You’re surprised to find that the pain in your side and shoulder is manageable today, and a triumphant smile ghosts over your lips when you sit up completely on your own and swing your legs over the side of the bed.

  
Robin helps you dress in something comfortable. Your usual pair of form fitting jeans and cropped halter top would expose your wounds to the air, so instead you put on a pair of denim shorts and a simple blue tank top, the same color as Sanji’s eyes. You blush at the comparison and allow Robin to help you with your hair. Your hand is still too tender to pull your long locks into a pony tail alone, so the archaeologist makes quick work of pulling your hair into a band high on your head and arranging it so that it brushes softly against the middle of your back.

  
Everyone is surprised when you walk into the kitchen without assistance, Robin following closely behind you in case you exert yourself too much and need to lean on her. The excited faces that greet you warm your heart and you find yourself laughing when rubber arms pull you into a gentle hug and the others join in, everyone but Sanji who is busy at the stove, his shoulders tense.

  
Once you’re released you make your way over to him and frown when he visibly stiffens in reaction to your presence. Another pang of hurt clenches your heart and you open your mouth to ask him what’s wrong, but the cook suddenly turns around with hearts in his eyes and plates of food in his hands.

“Reader-swan,” He sighs out dreamily as he tornados around you, but you can tell that his heart isn’t in it. Sanji is faking and you can see it in the tense set of his shoulders, “you look beautiful even with your cuts and bruises.”

  
He whirls away from you to serve Nami and Robin their food first, setting your food at the table as well before he began to serve the boys. Disheartened, you make your way to the table and take your place beside Zoro, absently nibbling at your scrambled eggs and fruit. Brook is sitting on the other side of you with space enough between you for another person, but the tall skeleton makes quick work of the gap by leaning over to softly ask you something.

  
“Reader-san,” he begins seriously, “may I see your panties?”

  
“Oh, Brook,” you murmur in a teasing tone, “I don’t know if I could manage to remove my shorts by myself in my current state.”

  
The blood that suddenly spurts from his nose is worth it and you laugh as Nami smacks him in the head for being a pervert. You almost feel like things are back to normal, almost.

  
You’re surprised when Sanji suddenly sits down on your other side between you and the skeleton with an irritated expression. Was he jealous? You always teased Brook when he asked you perverted questions, so why did he seem more irritated by it than usual? He doesn’t often sit down to eat at the table, but his place has always been next to you. He was confusing you with his standoffish posture and false adoration, and it doesn’t help when your thigh brushes his beneath the table and your cheeks color in response. If Sanji notices the accidental contact, he says nothing. In fact, Sanji doesn’t even look at you. Normally the cook would be showering you with compliments by now.

  
You didn’t understand why he’d be avoiding you but if he didn’t want you around you wouldn’t torture him with your presence. You moved to stand up from the table a little too quickly, your still healing body losing its balance as the back of your legs bump hard into the bench you’d just vacated. You waited for the pain that would come with the ripping of stitches as you fell, but the sensation never came. The quiet strength and warmth of arms wrapped you up and caught you with ease and you almost opened your mouth to thank Zoro, but then you smelled it; cigarette smoke. Your eyes snapped open in surprise and locked on piercing blue. Sanji looked conflicted as he held you and the silence in the room was almost deafening.

  
“Just kiss her already,” Zoro remarked with a smirk, relishing in the way you turned red and Sanji’s brow twitched, “it’s not like you guys haven’t kissed befor—“

  
Zoro was swiftly cut off when Sanji attempted to kick him in the face, but the swordsman easily dodged the blow since the cook was off balance with you in his arms. Your eyes widened as the two men fought, not because you were concerned they would hurt you, but because you were surprised that Sanji had mentioned the kiss to them at all. Somewhere in the back of your mind you wondered if maybe the kiss meant more to the cook than he let on. Maybe he had felt the emotion with which you kissed him. You hoped that wasn’t the case because you didn’t want it to destroy the friendship you shared with the blonde, although it felt like it was already damaged and you didn’t know why.

  
Zoro didn’t strike back at the cook or bother unsheathing his swords. He wouldn’t risk hurting you so instead he blocked the kicks with his muscular arms and backed up until he hit the far wall of the kitchen.

  
“Oi,” Nami barked, her fist colliding with Zoro’s head hard enough to knock him down and Sanji’s just hard enough to make him dizzy but not enough for him to drop you, “knock it off you two!”

  
“Yes, my goddess,” Sanji gushed to the navigator, “anything for you!”

  
You resisted the urge to frown in his arms. His flirting had never bothered you before, but since he was making quite the effort to avoid you and his words were strained when directed at you, the ease with which he flirted with Nami was suddenly bothersome. The cook swiftly exited the kitchen shortly after to have a smoke, but he didn’t seem to realize that you were still settled against his chest, in his arms, because he sat down against the railing of the ship, setting you in his lap, and tucked a cigarette between his lips before it dawned on him that he’d just had to move you to get to his smokes. Sanji blinked, blue eyes sweeping over you sitting in the middle of his criss-crossed legs and the bridge of his nose darkened so slightly that you wondered if you had imagined it. You couldn’t stop the sudden laughter that bubbled in your throat, the sound further darkening Sanji’s face in a blush.

  
“I’m sorry, Sanji,” you gasped between giggles, “that was just so cute.”

  
For the first time since you had woken up after blacking out in his arms, you saw a real smile pull at the corner of the cook’s mouth as he flicked open his lighter and lit his cigarette. Ordinarily he would start to swoon and gush about how your laughter sounded like a symphony or something equally ridiculous, but the barely there smile was more genuine and you found yourself liking this reaction far more. Eventually your laughter slowly died and you took your time studying the blonde who had yet to remove you from his lap. His attention seemed far away as he stared off into the sea, your own eyes memorizing the way he lazily inhaled the smoke from his cigarette, the way his jaw tightened to accommodate the movement, the blonde hair that had moved into his uncovered eye during his fight with Zoro. Your fingers longed to brush it away, but you knew somehow it would break the spell of companionable silence, something you were unwilling to do with the cook already acting so unlike himself toward you.

  
“Do you remember anything?”

  
Your quiet question breaks the silence, and you know that he knows what you mean when his jaw flexes and his fingers grip his cigarette a little too tightly, almost breaking the stick in half.

  
“Unfortunately,” Sanji starts, completely oblivious to the hurt expression that flits across your face when you assume that he’s talking about the kiss, “yes I do.”

  
Upset, you start to get up so you can leave and be alone for a while, but Sanji’s legs suddenly tighten their hold on you and you blink in surprise. Wasn’t he upset with you? Didn’t he want you to give him space?

  
“I’m so sorry, Reader-san,” Sanji breathes, his tone laced with remorse as he pulls you closer to his chest, his cigarette forgotten where he crushed it on the deck, “it’s my fault that you got hurt.”

  
You’re shocked by this confession, your eyes blowing wide as Sanji’s arms come around you and he rests his chin on top of your head. You felt stupid for not seeing it before. Sanji blames himself.

  
“If I could just control myself,” the cook continues, a frustrated sigh escaping him as he recalls the battle, “then I never would’ve fallen victim to his illusion and you wouldn’t be injured.”

  
“Sanji,” your voice is angry and it catches his attention. He pulls back to look at you and blue eyes blink in surprise when he sees that your lovely features are set in an expression of hard conviction, “any one of us could’ve fallen for his illusion.”

  
You refused to allow him to beat himself up over this. You’ve been hurt before. You’ve broken too many bones to count, your body was littered in scars and you were a skilled and veteran fighter. You were proud to be a member of the Straw Hats, proud to put yourself on the line for your captain, your nakama and your dreams. This was not on Sanji and he needed to realize that.

  
“He was a devil fruit user who could make you see anything he wanted, be it a beautiful woman, a loved one or even a comrade,” you continue, sitting up a little straighter in his lap, “don’t you dare blame yourself for this. _I_ don’t blame you, Sanji.”

  
Sanji’s blue eyes widen as you practically yell at him, the determination in your tone a surprise. He doesn’t understand why you’re not angry with him, why you don’t blame him for being distracted and allowing that bastard to almost kill you. He bowed his head in thought for a moment, but you weren’t done.

  
“Is that why you’ve been avoiding me,” you murmur quietly this time, the sadness in your voice not unnoticed by the cook, “is that why you’ve barely even looked at me since I woke up?”

  
The shame that shadows Sanji’s face makes you want to take the words back. You’d hit the nail on the head and ripped open the wound that had been festering since your return to the ship. Sanji has been avoiding you because he felt responsible for your wounds. He’d barely looked at you because the soft and beautiful features of your face made his gut clench and roll with regret.

  
“Sanji,” you nearly whisper, your hands coming up to cradle his face. You blush when his eyes suddenly find yours and stay there, uncertainty written in their deep blue depths. You had never dared to touch him so intimately. You always feared that it would show him how much you cared, but the need to wipe the guilt from his face was so great that you didn’t care. It broke your heart to see him so angry with himself over something that could have easily happened to any of you.

  
His expression suddenly softens as he stares at you and when his hands come up to cover yours, the cook leaning into your touch, your heart flip flops in your chest. You wait for the overdramatic hearts to replace his eyes and the drool to slide down his chin, but it doesn’t come. Instead the guilt and tension in his shoulders relaxes and you almost lean in to kiss him, wondering if he would react to you the same way he had in the snow, if he would kiss you back without hesitation.

  
“Sanji,” Luffy’s voice suddenly whines as your captain rounds the corner and finds you both sitting there, “I’m hungry.”

  
You both spring apart at his unexpected appearance and Sanji immediately stands upright. He helps pull you to your feet and doesn’t seem to notice when his hand lingers at your waist longer than necessary.

  
“You just had breakfast!”

  
“Breakfast was two hours ago,” Luffy moans like a dying animal and the both of you blink, looking up to gauge the location of the sun. Luffy was right, you’d been out here for over two hours together, “I’m starving!”

  
“Alright,” Sanji submits with an irritated sigh, “I suppose it is nearly time to start preparing lunch.”

  
The captain cheers and takes off running for the lawn deck to tell the others and Sanji finally releases his hold on you. He doesn’t miss the yawn you try to hide with your hand and another smile pulls at his lips.

  
“You need rest,” he murmurs gently and coaxes you to follow him toward the sick bay so that Chopper can change your bandages and you can take a nap, “you’ve exerted yourself enough for one morning.”

  
You don’t argue as you allow him to pull you by the hand toward the infirmary, and despite your exhaustion you feel yourself smile. The confusing coldness with which Sanji has been regarding you is now gone and when the cook looks at you again after helping you sit on the bed; his expression is warm and affectionate. You ask him to wake you later and he agrees without question before he leaves to prepare lunch, leaving Chopper to redress your wounds before allowing you to lie down and sleep to quickly swallow you up.

  
You open your eyes in what seems like only moments later and the room is dark. You wonder why Sanji didn’t wake you up as promised and you frown as you slowly sit up in bed. The night air is crisp and you shiver, pulling your blanket around you as you get up and head for the door. The Sunny seems oddly quiet tonight, you notice, the ocean and the wind the only sounds that reach your ears as you pad barefoot toward the railing to look upon the sea. The reason for the chilly air becomes clear when you see the fat snowflakes drifting down onto the deck, the cold biting into your naked feet. Zoro is normally up at this time of night but you don’t see him anywhere, and you almost head back to bed when movement down below on the lawn catches your attention.

  
You study the lean silhouette and wild hair and for a moment you think that it has to be Sanji. Maybe he couldn’t sleep and he’s wandering around the Sunny with bed head. Your assumption deflates when the clouds covering the moon part for a moment and a jagged scar that stretches from temple to opposite jaw line freezes you in place. The brunette smirks at you as he begins to ascend to your position and you turn to run, your foot catching and a scream tearing itself from your throat as you feel the stitches in your side rip from the fall.

  
You bolt upright in bed, your chest heaving with each ragged breath you attempt to take, but you aren’t alone. Fear claws at your throat as you scramble to untangle yourself from the sheets and fall to the floor with a painful smack. You cry out as you land on your injured side and nearly scream when you suddenly feel hands upon you.

  
“Oi, Reader,” Zoro’s voice stills you, “calm down. You’re having a nightmare.”

  
You can’t seem to stop shaking but you allow his fingers to prod your side gently. The swordsman’s expression relaxes in relief when he sees that you haven’t torn your stitches, but you’re having difficulty catching your breath, and Zoro sees the beginnings of a panic attack roaring to the surface.

  
“I’ll get Chopper,” he breathes, only to pause when you shake your head violently.

  
“Sanji,” you practically whimper, “get Sanji.”

  
You curl in on yourself when Zoro bolts out the door to retrieve the cook, leaving you alone in the darkness, the light creeping beneath the door not enough to bring you comfort. You’re not sure why you asked for Sanji specifically, but you aren’t thinking straight and he’s the only one you want to see because Sanji knew what your attacker was capable of. Sanji would know what to do. Your skin begins to prickle as your imagination places the man from your nightmares in the shadows of the room. It felt so real... It had to be real. The man with the scar is probably just outside where you saw him last and your crew just hasn’t realized it yet. Your throat constricts and your breathing becomes shallow and you fight to convince yourself that he isn’t here. You can only assume that Sanji beat him senseless so he couldn’t possibly be here on the ship with you, right?

  
You’re practically panting when the door slams open and you’re hauled against a familiar chest, a choking sound leaving your lips as you try to contain a sob. Sanji’s scent cocoons you as the cook wraps you in his arms and pulls you into his lap so that your skin is no longer touching the cold floor.

  
“I—“

  
You try to speak but your throat threatens to close again and Sanji shushes you, his nimble fingers moving up to stroke your hair. He touches you so tenderly that it almost breaks your heart, because you just know that he doesn’t share your feelings. You relinquish yourself to the strength and safety that he offers and your head falls naturally into the crook of his neck.

  
“He was here,” you whisper against his skin, “I saw him.”

  
“He’s not here,” Sanji promises you and the way his voice rumbles against your ear is oddly soothing, “I killed him.”

  
He expects you to tense at his confession, but instead your body sags in relief and your trembling slowly begins to subside. He debates on whether or not he should put you back in bed but you seem content to stay in his arms and Sanji is more than happy to sit on the hard floor all day and night if it means that he gets to hold you. He tries not to dwell on the fact that you asked for him specifically. You could’ve taken comfort in Zoro’s embrace but you wanted him for some reason and Sanji briefly entertained the thought that it might be because this connection to you that he often felt was mutual.

  
“Sanji,” you begin softly and tilt your head back so that you can see his face. You notice for the first time that it’s still daylight and that Sanji smells of spices, indicating that he’d been in the middle of cooking, “I need some air.”

  
The cook doesn’t miss the way you say his name informally, laced with affection, and he nods. He picks you up and holds you to him with ease as he stands and carries you outside. He stops when you reach the spot where you had shared a similar moment just hours prior and carefully sets you on your feet. You’re a little unsteady at first but you eventually find your bearings and take a deep breath of the salty late afternoon air. There were no lurking men with scarred faces or ominous looming shadows so you let your guard down and wrap your arms around yourself when the wind chills you.

  
You’re surprised when warmth and soft cloth brushes your shoulders and you glance up as Sanji places his jacket around you. You’re soothed by the scent of him clinging to the fabric, and without really meaning to, you find yourself leaning against the cook, who says nothing in response but drapes an arm almost experimentally around your shoulders as if waiting for rejection.

  
“Were you cooking?”

  
Your eyes shift to look at him and catch his shrug.

  
“Nami is watching the oven.”

  
Surprise flits across your features at the realization that Sanji abandoned cooking in order to come to your aid and had left Nami to tend to the dinner. In all the time that you’d known the cook you’d never seen him make the navigator so much as lift one dainty finger. It brings a smile to your lips, which Sanji notices.  
“What?” He asks you with a little quirk of his lips.

  
“Nothing,” you practically sing song as you lean a little more of your weight against him, “what’s for dinner?”

  
He laughs at that and gently nudges you in the direction of the kitchen.

  
“Roasted sea king and vegetables.”

  
You eye him curiously when he tells you that he’s making your favorite meal but before you can ask him about it he opens the door to the dining hall and all of your crew mates make a fuss. You quickly gather that they were present when Zoro came seeking Sanji and you blush despite your best effort not to, taking your seat at the table.

  
“Isn’t that Sanji’s jacket?”

  
Nami questions you with a little knowing smirk that makes you sink lower in your seat, certain that you’ll die of embarrassment at any moment. You don’t remove the fabric, however, and instead pull it a little tighter around yourself. You’re still only wearing your tank top and shorts, your feet bare, and the air is swiftly growing cold as evening begins to set in. The cook in question is back at the stove, expertly chopping vegetables while simultaneously pouring cocktails. He sets a pretty blue beverage in front of you, complete with a colorful flower attached to the rim and the two of you exchange a look that heats your face again as he flounces off to serve the other girls.

  
Your nakama notice your blushing but they say nothing, and you’re thankful that Luffy isn’t in the room because your captain was not very good at filtering himself. As if on cue the grinning boy enters the room a moment later and laughs when you almost stab him in the hand with your fork when he reaches for the meat that Sanji hasn’t even finished setting in front of you. You break into a fit of laughter when the cook begins to yell and shake the captain before he’s suddenly swooning and oozing charm when Nami punches them both to separate them.  
  
The flirting doesn’t make you feel angry now that you’ve patched things up with him, and instead you find it rather funny when his cigarette billows little smoke hearts and he practically falls to his knees to worship at the red-head’s feet. Affection for the cook swells inside of you as you shake your head in amusement and take a bite of your supper, humming your approval when the spices touch your tongue. Sanji must have heard you because once everyone is served he takes his seat beside you once more and watches you eat for a moment, his expression unreadable, before he finally takes a bite of his own food.

  
Dinner goes on as usual for you and the crew, with rubber hands flying in every direction and Nami yelling at the captain for stealing food. You couldn’t stop the smile that spread across your face as love for your nakama warms your heart. You’d choose to be here on the Thousand Sunny surrounded by each of them no matter what the world offered you, because this was your home and they were your family. Once everyone finished eating they each filed out of the dining hall to go about their various activities. You could hear Luffy playing tag with Chopper and Usopp just outside the door and smiled to yourself before slowly getting up from the table.

  
Sanji began to make a fuss about how you needed to rest but you waved him off and instead made your way to the sink to begin washing the dishes. Tonight was Sanji’s night to wash but he’d already spent time slaving over the stove. You didn’t think it was fair that he would have to do both without help.

  
“You don’t have to do that, Reader-san,” he cooed, the flirtation in his tone still very much like the same old Sanji but it was different too, laced with something deeper, “your hands are much too lovely to prune them up in dirty dish water.”

  
“I’m perfectly capable of washing the dishes, Sanji-kun,” you laugh and toss a towel at him, clearly expecting him to dry, “and I need to busy myself with something. I’m going crazy being treated like glass.”

  
The blonde chuckles and nods his understanding as he moves to stand next to you at the sink. He drapes the towel over his shoulder and rolls his crisp shirt sleeves up to his elbows as you turn the faucet on and fill one side of the sink with soapy water. You carefully remove Sanji’s jacket from around you and set it on the opposite counter, not wanting to get it wet and set to work scrubbing the remnants of dinner away from the plates.

  
The silence that envelopes you is companionable and you fall into a steady rhythm of scrubbing and then passing the dish to Sanji to rinse and dry it. With the two of you working on the dirty pile you were done in half the time it would normally take, and you smiled as you began wiping down the countertops while Sanji cleaned the stove and table. It felt entirely domestic and you weren’t exactly sure why you were enjoying yourself, because you were never a domestic sort of girl. You guessed that it had something to do with the man who suddenly moved to stand beside you.

  
“You’re smiling,” Sanji mused, pulling you from your thoughts.

  
“This is nice,” you softly murmur and shrug, your face flushing against your will when the cook steps close.

  
“The task or the company?” Sanji asks so quietly that for a moment you wonder if you’ve imagined it, but when you turn to look at him he’s staring at you, curly brow raised in question and a smile pulling at his lips.

  
“The company,” you finally manage to admit, blushing furiously.

  
You’re not sure why the cook feels suddenly bold. It was only hours prior that he was avoiding you like some sort of plague and now he was looking at you with an emotion you didn’t recognize in his eyes. Had he guessed that you had feelings for him? You watch him as he steps closer and lifts a hand to brush his fingers against your cheek, your eyes blowing wide in response.

  
“Sanji,” you breath softly, instinct telling you to back away but for some reason you don’t want to.

  
Your voice makes him stop and you study the hesitation that flits across his face, as if he’s worried that you might reject him, that he might be crossing a line. His hand pulls away from your face and he moves to take a step away from you, but before you can even question what you’re doing your fingers curl around his wrist and prevent him from doing so. You realize suddenly that you want him to kiss you. You want Sanji to initiate the intimate contact without excuses. There were no scarred men or devil fruit fueled illusions. It was only you and the cook.

  
Your heart skips in your chest when Sanji’s features soften with relief in reaction to your touch. His fingers ghost over your cheek again before he bends and you feel his breath brush across your lips. You inhale sharply as you wait for his kiss, instinctively lifting yourself up on your toes to meet him. Before your eyes slip closed you see Sanji smile and you realize instantaneously that the emotion you didn’t recognize in the cook’s eyes is love. Sanji loves you. Your heart feels like it might burst from your chest when your hands move up to tangle in his soft blonde locks and you drag him the rest of the way to your waiting lips.

  
“Where is he,” an angry shout from outside makes the two of you spring apart just as your lips begin to brush, “where is that blonde bastard?!”

  
You share a look with Sanji, your eyes going wide. That voice.... It sounds like the amber eyed man from the island. You scramble out of the kitchen with Sanji hot on your heels and freeze in your tracks when you’re greeted with the sight of the scarred man standing on the lawn deck with your other nakama surrounding him. You notice that he’s barely able to keep himself upright due to his injuries, but Luffy is still glaring daggers at him.

  
“You’re the bastard that hurt Reader,” the captain growls out, his hands balled into fists at his side, but his reaction is nothing compared to Sanji’s.

  
When you look over at the cook his form is absolutely rigid beside you. His grip on the railing is so tight that you fear he might crush it. His face is twisted with fury when the brunette’s gaze locks on you, and you don’t stop the cook when he moves to step in front of you and block you from view.

  
“You should’ve stayed dead,” Sanji remarks, his voice laced with venom.

  
You jump when the scarred man suddenly barks with laughter, your hand gripping the back of Sanji’s shirt instinctively before you shift to stand at his side so that you can see what’s happening. The cook’s arm comes around your shoulders and presses you against his side protectively and you let him.

  
“You’re forgetting,” the scarred man practically hisses, his amber eyes flashing, “I can make you do whatever I want.”

  
His words make you tense as he suddenly snaps his fingers and Sanji stiffens against you. You realize instantly that he’s using his devil fruit power and the cook is ensnared in another illusion in which he sees the most beautiful woman in the world. You brace yourself for the fawning and swooning, but instead Sanji suddenly smiles, his expression dangerous even as a small trickle of blood drips from his nose, making it clear that he does indeed see the illusion.

  
“Did you forget? Your tricks don’t work on me anymore,” Sanji drawls, his smile growing when the scarred man falters, his eyes blowing wide and shifting to you as if he knows that you’re the reason for his sudden loss of power, “now you can either throw yourself into the sea or I’ll do it for you.”

  
You stand there for a moment, stunned as you watch the cook casually wipe the blood away from his nose with his thumb, his rigid posture a clear indication that he was going to make good on his promise and throw the devil fruit user into the ocean, despite the fact that to Sanji he still looks like a woman. The cook knows that he isn’t one, so he stamps down on his chivalry and readies himself.

  
Your eyes drift up to stare at the cook and you quickly realize that you’re in love with this idiotic, frustrating, womanizing chef. You know without a doubt in that moment that you have loved him for a long time and suddenly it doesn’t matter that he flirts with your fellow female crew mates. It doesn’t matter that he will always have a weakness for women or that you’re scared that being in love with one of your nakama might make the rest of the crew uncomfortable, because in that moment your heart swells with affection and Sanji becomes a part of your dreams.

  
As if sensing eyes on him, the cook looks down and meets your gaze, his own widening in surprise when he takes in your expression. He doesn’t have time to wonder why you’re looking at him like that, because you suddenly grab hold of his tie and pull him down to you forcefully, claiming his lips with your own. A jolt of electricity crackles through your veins when Sanji inhales sharply, but it’s nothing compared to the heat that overwhelms you when his arms come around you and he pulls you taut against his chest. Sanji kisses you back, matching your desperation and passion with his own, encouraged by the soft moan that escapes you without your consent.

  
You snake your arms around his neck, pushing yourself up on your toes to kiss him more thoroughly as you tangle your fingers in his hair. The sound of water splashing as Luffy punches the scarred man off the deck and into the sea barely registers as you lose yourself in sensation and in Sanji. The cook swipes his tongue across your bottom lip and your knees almost give out but he doesn’t seem to mind the extra weight as he holds you more firmly against him.

  
“Don’t mind us,” Nami quips, lifting an eyebrow when the two of you blink and reluctantly part, “we’ll just stand here while you make out.”

  
You turn red at her words and she laughs, clearly teasing. Sanji doesn’t let go of you as you take in the sight of all of your nakama grinning at you, a few of them laughing.

  
“It’s about time,” Zoro states with an eye roll as he smirks at you from beside the navigator, “watching you two tip toe around each other was getting really old, shit cook.”

  
“Wait,” Usopp interjects, confusion written all over his face, “I thought you guys were already dating.”

  
“So romantic,” Brook sighs, his hands clasped as he looks at you dramatically, “my heart is bursting with joy.... Although I have no heart! Yohohoho!”

  
“This is so,” Franky bellows, his eyes filling up with tears as he strikes a pose, “SUPER!”

  
“Be careful for her stitches, Sanji,” Chopper murmurs with a frown as he points at your injured torso, “you’re holding her too tight.”

  
“It would seem that I have won the bet,” Robin says with an amused chuckle, “they made their relationship official within two days.”

  
“I already threw him overboard, Sanji,” Luffy states and points at where the water is still rippling, “sorry. It looked like you were busy.”

  
You catch the teasing note in the captain’s voice and laugh when the rubber man grins widely at you. You feel silly for ever worrying that your crew might not accept your feelings for the cook and when you turn back to look at the man in question his lips find yours again. The hesitation he had shown in the kitchen just moments ago is gone and you smile at his confidence, melting into him without hesitation.

  
**[][][][][][]**

  
Sanji isn’t sure how he got so lucky. It has only been two days since you kissed him on the deck and finally gave him permission to express his feelings for you. Life went on as usual for the Straw Hats. He still dotes on the other women in the crew and swoons in classic Sanji fashion at everything they do, but now he notices the way you chuckle or smile at his antics, and your reaction only increases his love for you.

  
You sigh as you lie back in your lawn chair and allow the sun to kiss your skin. Chopper removed your bandages the day before and most of your injuries are already mostly healed, the flesh red but no longer tender. You can’t stop the smile that tugs at your lips when your favorite cook tornados onto the lawn deck and serves Robin her iced coffee and Nami her orange smoothie, immediately gushing over how beautiful they look and offering to rub sunscreen on them as they relax on the lawn. It isn’t until he moves to your position that you open an eye, just in time to laugh when he swoops down and kisses you.

  
“You look beautiful,” he murmurs as he brushes a lock of hair out of your eyes and sets your iced tea down on the table next to you.

  
“You said that twenty minutes ago when you brought me my last refill,” you tease, lifting your hand to trace his facial hair.

  
“That’s because you grow more beautiful every time I see you,” he compliments without missing a beat and you laugh again, trying to ignore that heat that floods your face because you can tell that he means it.

  
“Flatterer,” you respond softly, but you know that he catches the affectionate tone with which you say it.

  
Your eyes fall shut of their own accord when he leans in again, but instead of kissing your lips his breath ghosts across the shell of your ear and makes you shiver.

  
“I love you,” he whispers to you, serious and unconcerned by his willingness to say it so soon.

  
“I love you too, Sanji,” you reply when he pulls back just a little to meet your gaze, grinning like an idiot when your hands find his tie and tug.

  
The cook obeys, just like you knew he would, and kisses you so thoroughly that your toes curl and that little moan that he has made it his duty to draw from you escapes. Somewhere in the back of your mind you wonder what the future holds for you on the next island, but you don’t dwell on it when Sanji suddenly picks you up and begins to carry you toward your spot on the upper deck, the one where just days ago he’d been surprised to find you in his lap. You laugh when he sits down with his back to the railing and settles you in his lap as he had that moment that seemed so long ago, but this time instead of looking startled to find you there, he brushes his nose against yours and lightly nips your lower lip, earning a shiver as his reward. The future no longer scares you, because you’re convinced that you can do anything, overcome anything when Sanji, your Sanji, looks at you like that.

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: I was writing the new chapter for my ZoNa story Sweet Dreams when the idea for this story hit me. I immediately thought that it would be adorable if Sanji was held captive by his love of women and only a kiss from the reader could break the spell for him. I love that silly, annoying, love struck cook. I just had to write this and share it with you. Happy reading and as always, until next time, my nakama!  
> \- B


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